How to Fall in Love When You Really Don't Want To
by Everything In Its Right Place
Summary: "Force your eyes away. Frown at the excitement that overtook you. Whisper under your breath: Bastard. When Sakura asks what you said, reply: Do you want to get ice cream? Don't look back. Think constantly about not thinking about him." SasuNaruSasu AU


Hi! This story was inspired after reading Lorrie Moore's _Self Help_. It's all written in second person with unique formatting. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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**How to Fall in Love When You Really Don't Want To**

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Go to the first day of your sophomore year in college feeling good. You feel strong and acclimated. You feel like you are finally fitting in somewhere. Be glad that the bad reputation you had in high school hasn't followed you the 500 miles you moved to get away from it.

Show up to your 12:30 Genetics class twenty minutes early. See your best friend in the fifth row. Sit in the empty seat next to her and smile wide with fake surprise. She snorts at you, reminds you that you signed up for the class together. Smile wider. Take in her soft features, her light green eyes. Wonder why you never asked her out. Glance at the ring on her finger to remind yourself it is too late. For a moment, feel a distant pang of regret, a tiny hole that grows larger the longer you watch her glossy, pink lips move. Realize abruptly that she is telling you a funny story about her trip home. When she finishes, guffaw with gusto. Feel that hole fill up with joy. Keep laughing until your eyes squeeze shut and tears leak out of the corners. Try to stifle your giggles. Blurt out: _I love you, Sakura_. She grins. She takes it in the context of friends. Grin back because that's exactly how you meant it.

When her eyes shift to the door, turn expecting to see your professor. Stare instead at the most beautiful man you have ever seen. His skin is shockingly pale. Think: _Has he ever even been outside?_ Become distracted by the inky blackness of his hair, by the perfectly ironed professional clothing he is wearing. Suddenly self conscious of your baggy jeans and rumpled t-shirt, try to smooth out the wrinkles without taking your eyes off of him. He turns to look for a seat. Notice that his eyes are so dark they may be black. Try to remember if you've ever seen eyes that dark before. When they shift to lock with yours, feel your heart clench tight. You've only felt this way a few times before when you saw a girl you truly liked. Decide you hate him. Sneer at him. Watch elegantly shaped eyebrows raise ever so slightly before he sneers back and turns to sit in an available seat in the front row. Mumble under your breath: _Tsk. Bastard._ Sakura tells you she thinks he's gorgeous. Tell her you think he's a bastard. Pretend it hurts when she slaps you in the back of the head. Don't pay attention at all during class. Look at Sakura. Try to love her romantically. Whenever your eyes wander to the spiked blackness of the back of the bastard's head, force them away. Continue in this manner as long as possible.

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After about three weeks, Sakura will gently remind you how happy she is that you are friends, tell you all about her wedding plans. Decide to give up trying to love her. Try to love the quiet girl sitting three rows in front of you instead. She blushes when you look at or talk to her. You like her pale skin. You like her thick, black hair even more. Ignore the fact that tan blonds and pretty redheads were your type up until last month. Continue trying to ignore the bastard. Continue failing.

The quiet girl's name is Hinata. Loving her isn't going well. She stutters and blushes whenever she is in your presence. You cannot hold a decent conversation with her. Your grades in Genetics are low. The bastard hands the tests back. Whisper under your breath: _Teacher's pet._ He puts yours face down on your desk. You've never been this close to him. His scent wafts over you. Vanilla with a hint of sandalwood. Your heart clenches again, and you are disgusted. Flip your test over hurriedly. The paper is bleeding red ink. A big red F is gashed in the corner. He is still next to you. He makes a noise that sounds like _hn_. He calls you _dobe_. You don't know what that means but can tell it's an insult. Call him a bastard. Pretend to ignore his smirk.

Extensive searching on the internet reveals that _dobe _is a Japanese insult. It means dropout, dead last. Remember his attractive baritone whispering it. Hiss _bastard_ at the screen. Call Hinata and attempt a conversation with her. Give up after a few minutes. Tell her you'll see her in class. Try not to think about the bastard. Focus on the fact that you are failing Genetics. Decide instead of trying to fall in love, you'll try to get an A.

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Your grades start to improve. It turns out the class is actually interesting. Your eyes drift to the back of the bastard's head regularly. Tell yourself it's because he sits in front of the board.

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Dream about him for the first time. He smirks at you and brushes the back of his slender fingers against your cheek. He leans in and kisses you with petal softness. Wake up in a cold sweat. Convince yourself it was a fluke. Reach up and touch your lips, remembering the dream kiss. Run to the bathroom and vomit. Skip class.

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Grow tired of Hinata's shyness. Let her down easy. When Sakura questions you, tell her it was a physical thing. She'll look at you funny because she knows pale brunettes are not the type you usually go for. Ask her about her wedding plans before she can question you further. Try not to feel awkward when you see the bastard. He doesn't look at you. Think: _Maybe he doesn't notice._ Think: _Maybe I want him to._ Shake your head so suddenly and violently that Sakura asks if you are okay. Grin sheepishly and lie.

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Don't dream about him over a long weekend. Do all of your homework. Help Sakura pick out flowers for her wedding by accompanying her to the florist and nodding at everything she says. Think you see him sitting in a coffee shop. Force your eyes away. Frown at the excitement that overtook you when you recognized his distinct spiked hairdo. Whisper under your breath: _Bastard_. When Sakura asks what you said, reply: _Do you want to get ice cream?_ Don't look back. Think constantly about not thinking about him.

Notice his conspicuously empty seat the next day. Feel one way, but tell yourself you feel something different. Learn his name when the professor asks if anyone has seen Sasuke on the third day of his absence. Let your lips mouth it once, then tuck it away off to the side like a corner piece to a jigsaw puzzle. Your eyes wander to his seat throughout class. Tell yourself it's because his seat is in front of the board.

When he returns, look him over for anything that may have changed. Note that his hair isn't any different; his pale skin hasn't been marred in any way. Look at him as Sasuke for the first time. Decide his name fits him perfectly. Wonder what his favorite food is, what types of music he likes. Wonder if he likes the same types of movies as you do, if there's one the two of you could see together. When he looks at you, realize what you've been thinking, and stop that thought with a short, strangled cry. Feel your face drain of color as the full impact of your musings hits you. Cover it up with a coughing fit. Sakura asks if you are okay. Say: _I think I need to go home._ Gather your things and bolt out the door. Ignore everything until you get to your apartment. Sit on your bed and try not to think about him. Try harder not to cry in frustration. Fail.

Skip class the next day. Decide to watch gay porn for the first time. The video you find features a tan, muscular blond like you and a thin, pale brunette like Sasuke. Think: _Sasuke is much better._ Let that thought go without examining the implications of it. Find yourself extremely turned on. Replace the faces of the actors in your mind's eye. This turns you on more. When the video ends, conclude that you may be gay. Know for sure that you are at least bisexual because the thought of touching Sasuke, of being intimate with him, fills you with more excitement than the video did. This realization weighs heavy on you. Decide you can't keep it to yourself. Call Sakura. When she asks you what's wrong, open your mouth to tell her you think you might be gay. Say: _I think I have the flu._ She offers to bring you soup. Decline, and feel stupid. She tells you partners in Genetics were assigned alphabetically. Your partner is someone named Sasuke Uchiha. Hers is the shy girl Hinata. Consider asking to trade. Stop yourself when a small wave of jealousy courses through you. You don't want Sasuke partnered with either of them. Tell her goodbye and that you hope to be well enough to see her tomorrow. Plan to play out the flu lie as long as possible.

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After a week of pretending, the phone rings. Feel a pang of regret because you know it's Sakura. She has been taking notes for you. Consider not answering because hearing her worried voice makes you feel like an asshole. You still haven't told her about your recent revelation. You are also lying about being sick. Feel a little worse as you recall the reason you are lying in the first place. Think: _I can't face Sasuke._ Desire him. Catch your reflection in a window. Say: _Out of sight, out of mind. _Think: _Absence makes the heart grow fonder_. Feel stupid. Imagine yourself near him and recoil from the jittery mess of desire, fear, and shame you conjure. Try for the hundredth time to think of a way to do your project without actually speaking to him. The phone stops ringing. Sprint to the table your phone is resting on. Sudden, horrible visions assault you as you realize how worried Sakura probably is and the very ugly consequences that could ensue if you don't call her back immediately. Snatch the phone off the table. It vibrates in your hand. Answer without hesitation. Affect a cough and say: _Sorry! Sorry!_

A smooth baritone rolls over the line: _Dobe, I refuse to do this project by myself. I don't care how sick you are; you are going to do your part._

Freeze up. Stop breathing. Hear your heart thud in your chest. See his face, pale and unblemished. He continues: _That pink-haired friend of yours gave me your number. She said you live in those blue apartments on Second Street. Broadmore, was it? _Say nothing. Stand completely still. The shock leaves you dumb. You have been tracked down by the man you have been trying to avoid since the start of the semester. Imagine him coming over. Recall all the explicit dreams you've had about him. Remember the invented image of the two of you that the porn inspired. Begin to breathe again, quickly and shallowly through your nose.

He says: _Are you there, idiot? _His voice startles you out of your frozen state. Jump back in surprise. Catch your foot on the edge of the rug. Overcompensate by leaning forward, and lose control. Throw you arms out to brace yourself instinctively. Remember the glass tabletop too late. Feel the glass give way under your hands and shatter all over the floor. Land hard, and cry out as you feel the glass tear at your skin, ripping its way inside of you. The pain of each piece entering you body is recognizable. Cry out. The phone skitters across the floor and smashes into the wall. The screen is cracked and dark. The glow of the buttons is dimmed. It begins to ring feebly before giving up and dying. You barely notice. All of your thoughts are on your own injured body. Even Sasuke is forgotten for now. Try to get out of the pile of glass. Feel another piece slice into your forearm, and cry out again. Crawl a few feet away, and rest with your back against the wall.

You're bleeding. It's coming in thick sheets down your arms. Watch as it pools beneath you and spreads out across the tile floor. Your fingers tingle and dizziness washes over you. Realize you are losing too much blood. Look over to your smashed phone as you debate about calling 911. Wonder if you are going to die. Blackness invades from all sides. Chuckle softly in your delirium. Let Sasuke's face enter your mind. Think: _He killed me._ Try to remember everything about him, his voice, his smell, his unique, gravity-defying hair, his pearlescent skin, the dark abyss of his eyes. Think of them until all you see is blackness. With the last of your strength, trace the letters of his name with your finger on the slick floor.

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Wake up very slowly. Reality comes to you in waves. First there is nothing, then a steady beeping, and, softer, an impatient tapping keeping double time with the beeps. The pain comes next, emanating from your arms, chest, and feet. Try to groan. Realize your throat is parched and chapped. Notice vaguely that the tapping has stopped. Focus all of your attention on trying to open your eyes. They flutter a bit, but the bright, fluorescent lights of the room make them slam shut immediately. Groan again even though it scratches and sears your throat. Footsteps sound gracefully away from you. There is a click, and the darkness behind your eyelids gets deeper as the footsteps return to your side. Succeed in opening your eyes in the dim room.

Think: _I'm dead. I'm dead, and this is heaven._

Conclude it must be heaven because _he_ is there, and his black eyes are full of concern and resting on you. It's glorious, and the beeping increases in speed. The pain reasserts itself. Grunt in unhappy surprise. Remember being twelve-years-old and looking up Sakura's dress. Remember toilet papering Kiba's house and fighting with Neji and all the other horrible things you have done. Sasuke's eyes narrow into a glare. Realize with pain and Sasuke glaring, it can't be heaven. Whisper: _Oh no! _It's so cracked and broken; Sasuke doesn't understand what you said. He continues to glare even as he reaches for a small styrofoam cup filled with water. The straw is bent, and he leans it to your lips. Drink deeply. Cough and sputter as his glare deepens; then reach your hands up to the cup to steady it, and drink deeply again. Your fingers are touching his. Even through the pain, you feel it. Ignore it for now because the water is more satisfying than you had imagined possible. Wonder how long it has been since you had a drink, how you got to the hospital in the first place. Know it is a hospital because of the heart monitor, the smell, the tubes and wires hooked to you every which way. Wonder how you are alive. Wonder why Sasuke is there of all people. Decide to ask the easiest question first. Say: _How long have I been out?_

Suddenly furious, he rips his hands from you. Drop the cup in surprise. The remaining water darkens your sheet, and the straw falls to the floor. He paces angrily and hisses: _Why did you do it?_ Having no idea what he is talking about, tilt your head to side and say: _Eh? _This only makes him madder. He stomps to your side and leans into your face. His black eyes spark with rage. He smells less perfect than before, like he hasn't changed in a couple days. His rage is palatable as he accuses you of trying to kill yourself and calls you an idiot. This makes no sense to you. Even in all your brooding and hiding, suicide never crossed your mind. Yell: _What are you talking about?_ It hurts your throat.

He grabs your arms and presses his thumbs into your wounds just hard enough to cause a spike of pain. Snatch them away and rub your aching wrists. Realize what he must have assumed. Shout: _I fell on a glass table, bastard!_ Watch as his eyes soften. He is visibly relieved. Whatever string wound him up so tight loosens. He turns quickly to hide his expression, but it is too late. Contemplate the relief you saw there. Realize he was worried about you. Allow warmth to blossom in your chest. He cares. Even if it's only whether you are suicidal or not, he cares. Recognize that considering the position you are in, full of cuts and tubes and wires, wet with spilled water, it is unreasonable to feel such joy, especially over something so small. Feel it anyway. You are too weak to fight it with him right there. Feel it spread to your face as your mouth begins to curve into an involuntary smile. Drop it quickly when Sasuke whips around, fury again present on his face.

He bellows: _Then why did you write my name in your blood?_

Open and close your mouth, but do not make any sound. Flashes of the moments before you passed out from blood loss replay themselves in your head. Remember your hand moving on its own. Feel your face flush. He doesn't notice. He's pacing again, ranting: _I heard you yell; then the line went dead. I called back, but I got your idiotic voicemail instead._ Continue to flush, and remind yourself to change the message you set up to fool people into thinking you answered the phone. Sasuke is still ranting: _I drove over there to give you a piece of my mind, and you don't answer the damn door. I walked in because it was unlocked with the full intent of kicking your ass, and I find you covered in blood with _**_my name_**_ written beside you._ He is getting frantic. He gesticulates and doesn't look at you. Think this seems unusual for him, but remain unsure. Try to quash the pleased feeling that bubbles up at affecting him so strongly. He takes a deep breath and continues: _I called an ambulance, and now you're here. The police thought it was a suicide attempt, and they kept questioning me about you, but I don't even know you, dobe! How can I have affected you that much?_

He stomps over to you and lifts you bodily out of the bed by your hospital gown. Ignore the tubes sliding and pads ripping from your skin. Ignore the pain. Focus only on him. He snarls into your face: _Why would you write my name?_

He is so close; you can feel his breath on your face. Try not to become distracted by it. Try to think of a good reason, maybe because he was the last person you talked to. A loud, steady tone makes what would have been an awkward silence more awkward. A nurse bursts in to investigate. Sasuke drops you simultaneously. Hold up the offending heart monitor wire, and smile sheepishly at the nurse. Say in your most innocent tone: _My bad. _Miss what the nurse says as you watch Sasuke stomp out the door. She asks how you are feeling again in an annoyed tone. Reply honestly: _I don't know._

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Sit at home feeling empty and stupid. Sasuke never came back to the hospital. All the nurses were surprised because he hadn't left since he brought you there. Hang your head in your bandaged hands. The truth about why you wrote his name is embarrassing. If you tell him, you're sure he'll never want to see you again. Remind yourself you spent most of the time since you met trying to avoid him. Groan aloud. The desire to get this off your chest is overwhelming. Reach for your new cell phone, and flip it open. Scroll down to Sasuke's name. You only have his number because it was rescued from your old phone along with all your other contacts. Feel your breathing speed up. Muster up all the courage you have. Tell yourself: _I'll just do it and get it over with._

The screen jitters as your hands shake. At the last second, chicken out; scroll up; and call Sakura instead. When she asks why you called, say: _I think I'm in love. _When she asks with whom, say: _That's the problem._

Regret trying to love her earlier in the year when she immediately assumes it's her and launches into an obviously rehearsed speech about why the two of you would never work and how you should just move on. Interrupt her impatiently, and assure her it's not her. When she insists on knowing who it is while trying to hide her disappointment, whisper: _Sasuke._ She says she'll be right over and hangs up on you. Stare at your phone in dismay. This is the first time you've admitted you may be in love, even to yourself.

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Sakura arrives much faster than usual. Immediately, she closes the door behind her and demands you spill. With the floodgates opened from your admission, do just that. Tell her everything, even the parts that may piss her off. She doesn't interrupt. Be grateful because you know you would have clammed up if she had. Being Sakura, her solution seems far too simple: _Just tell him._

Let your mouth hang open like a dead fish until she sighs and says: _What's the worst that could happen? If he hates you, so what? It's not like you see much of him anyway._

Be annoyed by this logic. Insist that thinking you are hated is much different from knowing it. Decide what you must do.

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Sasuke arrives after a short phone conversation in which he reminds you that there is only one thing he is interested in talking about. Be glad you took Sakura's advice to have him come to you. Remind yourself that he can leave if he hates you, and you won't have to go home crying your eyes out where everyone can see you. He surveys your apartment, letting his eyes linger on your new hardwood table and the place where you sat dying nearby. Wish he had looked around longer when his eyes land expectantly on yours: _Well? _ Sweat. Shuffle your feet. Pick at the frayed cords of your orange sweatshirt. Reply weakly: _Welcome to my home. _He sighs in exasperation, pivots, and marches toward door.

Call out: _Wait!_

He turns back sharply and demands: _Why did you write my name in your blood?_

Open your mouth to reply. Lose your nerve, and close it again with an audible click. His glare increases in ferocity. He commands: _Don't call me again. I'll do the project on my own._ He turns once more. Realize it's to walk out of your life for good.

Yell without thinking: _I think I love you!_

Ramble like an idiot while looking at the floor: _I just couldn't stop thinking about you, and I tried to avoid you, but it didn't help. And when you called, I was startled, and I fell. And I thought, if I'm dying, I might as well indulge because I was never going to see you again anyway. So my hand moved on its own because I was thinking of you. And I'm sorry if this weirds you out. It weirds me out too. I've never liked a guy before._

He interrupts: _But you like me? _His voice is even but strained ever so slightly as if he is holding back. Reply in your softest voice: _Yes._

Imagine how much it will hurt when he punches you. Clench all your muscles in preparation for the blow you are sure he is about to send your way. Wrench your eyes open in surprise when you feel a feather soft touch on your cheek. He is right in front of you. His lips are so close; when he speaks, you can feel the words puff out onto yours. Inhale the scent of his breath and the nervous sweat on your upper lip. He whispers: _I hate you._

Let the words sink in. Feel enormously stupid. Allow each muscle of your body to sag in turn, especially your face. Let it fall into moroseness, nothing like the petulant pout you usually wear when things don't go your way. The corners of your lips are weighted, too heavy for the fake grin you want to flash. Move away from him in fear that he might actually hear your heart breaking. Hate yourself for letting things get this far. Say: _I'm sorry._ Reach for the door handle. Say: _Goodbye._

He grabs you by the collar and yanks you back to him. Feel the hard planes of his chest against your back. The buttons of his dress shirt dig in a straight line down your spine. His left hand grabs your left hip possessively. Feel each finger press into the skin just under your shirt. His right hand releases your collar and curls around your chest to secure you to him. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. Get goosebumps on your neck where his silky, black bangs brush it. Don't think.

He whispers harshly: _You're an idiot._ Get more goosebumps. He breathes into your ear: _I've been following you. I've been doing everything I can to get you to look at me, and you wouldn't. I wore ridiculously tight pants, and you didn't show up. I bribed the professor into partnering us together, and you got the fucking flu. And then when I finally track you down, I come here, and I find… _His hands tighten even further. It's painful. Ignore it.

Say: _I'm sorry._

Be terrified of what comes next. Be inordinately hopeful about what comes next. Shake with emotion. Feel him tremble too.

Think: _This is too much._

Think: _This is too real. I can't go through with this._

Lose all your nerve. Be ashamed of the bulge in your pants, of the hardness pressing into your back. Decide not to go through with it. Decide it's not worth it. Turn in his arms to tell him. He loosens his hold to allow the movement, then clutches at you again. His face is still pale and flawless, but his eyes, which were hatred and fury and fire, are desperate and soft. Their blackness threatens to swallow you up. When he kisses you, allow it.

Think: _Just this once._

Grip the back of his spiky hair with one hand as his tongue slides along yours. Grab a handful of his ass with the other. Squeeze. Kiss him harder, and remind yourself this is the only kiss you'll have. Pull apart. Steel yourself to tell him you can't be together. Get distracted by his plump lips, reddened from your abuse. Their corners curve upward into a barely there smile. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Let all the worry about other people disintegrate under the force of your attraction. Decide you are going to stop making decisions and follow your instincts. Your instincts are singing his name.

Say: _I thought you hated me._

Grin stupidly when he says: _I do. You made me wait and worry. I don't like being forced to act outside my comfort zone._

Kiss his nose sweetly. He scrunches up his face in disgust. Pull him in for another amazing kiss. Say with gusto: _I hate you too!_ Laugh at his red face. When the neighbors pound on the wall, laugh harder. Pull him into a warm embrace. Nuzzle your nose into his throat and ask: _Does this mean we're dating?_

When he calls you an idiot, smile until your face hurts and kiss him again.

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**Author's Note**

Well, I hope you enjoyed it. I wrote this on and off for about five months. I did a lot of experimenting with form and repetition. Please let me know your opinion. Thanks for reading!**  
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